The Chocolate Bunny

I’ve tied the final ribbon ‘round

the baskets bound with cheer.

Tomorrow will be Easter, and

the grandkids will be here.

The baskets shine with cellophane;.

the kids will think they’re great.

They’ll all be so excited—

even I can hardly wait!

As I admire my labor,

I am thinking, “Wonder if

I might untie a ribbon and

inhale one little whiff?”

Those chocolate bunnies smell so sweet,

and surely I could pick

just one of them and have myself

a tiny little lick.

Well, that awoke my taste buds,

and now it’s only right

to go ahead just this one time

and take a little bite.

I don’t know what got into me—

I meant to only nibble,

but now one basket’s all awry

with bunny left a cripple!

It seems as though I've now regressed—

I’m in my childhood years,

when I could not resist the taste

of  hollow bunny ears,

and here’s a candy flower in

the bunny’s little hand.

Oops, where’d it go? I think I know,

and, oh, it tasted grand!

I need to find a perfect spot

where evidence can hide.

I’ll rearrange the basket, get

it straightened and retied,

and hope the littlest kid won’t miss 

the bunny this one lacks

(for now I have to think of how

to cover up my tracks).

I'm feeling some remorse, it's true--
there's not much left of bunny.
I hope the kid will not suspect 
or think that something's funny
when all the others "ooh" and "aah" 
with smiles all wide and bright
because their chocolate bunny's whole--
while he gets just one bite.

I’ll claim that it’s a chocolate kiss

old Mr. Hershey cooks

for any special kids that aren’t

obsessed by how it looks.

From that time on, I’ll try my best

to curb my chocolate habits,

especially when temptations taunt

me shaped like Easter rabbits!